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Wednesday, January 31, 2018

NEW RELEASE - MEET "SKIP QUINCY, SHORTSTOP"

MEET SKIP QUINCY, SHORTSTOP for the New York Nighthawks. While this is book 6 in the Bottom of the Ninth series, it is a stand-alone read.

One minute ten-year-old Skip Quincy was
riding in the backseat of his parents’ car, the next, he woke up in Little
Angels orphanage. Within six months, he was adopted. He was welcomed by Mrs.
Quincy, the woman he learned to call “mom”, but Mr. Quincy wasn’t a fan.

Athletically gifted early on, Skip pursued
baseball. He loved the sport and excelled, despite his indifferent dad. Driven
to succeed to prove his father wrong, Skip worked hard. Under the guidance of
his beloved high school coach, he won the coveted, challenging position of
shortstop. Though plagued by self-doubt, Skip made it
to the Nighthawks. He focused on baseball and relied on brief encounters with
groupies as a substitute for love. When two women entered his life,
satisfaction with one-night stands faded. Mimi or Francie? Could either one
give him the love and acceptance he’d never had?

EXCERPT

Skip, Bobby, Jake, and Nat donned sweats
and headed for the field. They loped along, staying in a group until they’d
done the warm-up, then they headed inside to pump iron. Skip loved the
challenge of the weight room. He was reduced to adding reps, because Vic
wouldn’t let him take a heavier weight. To avoid pulled muscles, the trainer
insisted they stretch before working out.“Keep going. Push yourselves, just a bit.
One more rep. Two more. But no pulled muscles!”Sweat soaked Skip’s T-shirt. He stopped to
down a bottle of water, then jumped on the bike for cardio. Feeling his body
perform, work, stretch, and grow stronger stoked his fire. Each session readied
him more and more for the contest with the Washington, D.C., Wolverines.
Playoffs were next week. He’d be ready.The men took a break. There was a buffet
spread for lunch in the dining hall. Bobby got behind Skip in line.“What happened to that Banner chick? You
didn’t bring her last night.”“Right. I’m taking her out tonight.”“Big night?” Bobby nudged him in the ribs
and wiggled his eyebrows.“None of your beeswax, jerkoff.”“Just thinkin’ it might be nice if you got
a little, for a change.”“I’m gettin’ plenty.”“Yeah? From who?” Bobby picked up a plate.“None of your damn business.”“Not from Francie?” Bobby’s voice rose.“No way. I keep tellin’ you, she’s like my little sister.” Skip speared a piece of
ham and put it on his dish.“Good. Leave her alone.”“Says you?”“Yeah. She’s too nice for you.”“Fuck off. I’ll go out with whoever I
want.”“She’s got enough problems, without you
messing up her head with your dick.”“That’s weird, buddy. What you just said? Very
weird.”“You know what I mean.”

EXCERPT

Dan swiveled and fired at Bobby, who was
between first and second. Skip ran to second, anchoring himself with his back
foot up against the bag, and stretching out toward the second baseman with his
other one. Bobby tossed it to Skip, who bent down and tagged Weeks’ right foot
as he slid into base. The bastard raised
his left foot, aiming his cleats at Skip’s back leg, but the shortstop dove
forward, into the dirt, bending his back leg at the knee, barely avoiding the
spikes. And he kept hold of the ball, nestled snugly in his glove.

“Out!” The umpire called, making a fist
and pumping it toward the ground.Weeks jumped up and immediately argued
with the umpire. Skip smiled and loped toward the dugout. He knew he’d tagged
him before hitting the ground. One glance at the Jumbotron, which showed a
replay, and Skip shook his head, his grin widening. Eddie Weeks, once an
asshole, always an asshole. Skip hit the dugout and nabbed a bottle of water,
downing it in almost one gulp.Cal Crowley sidled up to him. With one nod
and a pat on the shoulder, the manager said, “Way to go, Skip.”“Thanks.”After several teammates high-fived him, he
sat down, waiting his turn to bat. Nat was up first, then Bobby, who was in the
on-deck circle. Skip couldn’t wait. Confidence flowed through him. This was
going to be his game. He felt it, in his bones. All the weeks, months, and
years of endless practice would come together on this field, starting today.He stood up, walked to the front of the
dugout, and glanced at the stands. The seat he’d bought for Mimi Banner was
empty. Swinging his gaze to the left, he spied Francie Whitman, sitting next to
Elena Delgado. That was all he needed to know.

EXCERPT

Glancing up, he spied Mimi, hesitating at
the front of the restaurant. She wore a low-cut black dress. His gaze zeroed in
on her chest. He marveled that such a petite woman could have such large
breasts. He wondered if they looked bigger because she was so tiny. When he finally
looked up at her face, he frowned. She looked lost. Skip raised his hand to
catch her eye.She smiled and headed for his table. He
rose and pulled out her chair. She smoothed her skirt over her thighs and sat
down.“No one’s done that for me in a long
time,” she said.“Rowley didn’t pull out your chair?”She shook her head.“You were his wife.”“Didn’t seem to make much difference.”“Don’t mean to speak ill of the dead, but
he must have been kinda stupid.”“Thanks.” She shot him a warm smile.The conversation was going exactly where
he wanted. He needed to come off as a thousand times better than her dead husband if he wanted to warm her bed. Soft,
brown curly hair caressed her shoulders. He wanted to touch it but suspected she was skittish and would
freak out if he reached across the table to comb his fingers through her locks.Rowley had smacked her around and been
suspended, and eventually fired, for it—and for steroid usage. According to the
coroner, steroids had caused the heart attack that killed him.“You must miss Rowley,” Skip said,
signaling for the waiter. “What do you want to drink?”“Just ginger ale.”Skip raised his eyebrows. “I have a game,
but you have no reason to avoid a drink.”“I stopped drinking two years ago.”“Why?”“Alcohol made Rowley more violent. I
needed to stay sober to keep my wits about me when he was drinking. It just became
a habit.”Switching to her choice, Skip ordered two
ginger ales. He couldn’t imagine what it was like to be chained to a guy like
Banner.“Makes sense. Are you hungry? All the food
here is good. Trust me. I’ve eaten everything on the menu.”“All at once?” she asked with a twinkle in
her eye.